


Shell Game

by Leonia42



Series: A Violet in a Snowstorm [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Adventure, Drama, Dravania, F/M, Heavensward, Holy See of Ishgard, Mystery, Romance, Stormblood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 01:30:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13400601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leonia42/pseuds/Leonia42
Summary: Venice is trying to get on with life as usual but a brazen thief in the markets has other plans, she cannot anticipate what sinister dangers the chase will lead to but that hasn't deterred her before. She must work closely with the Temple Knights while accepting that she cannot formally join their ranks, a point she makes sure to bring up afterwards. When the dust has settled, she decides that going forward there might be a place for her as a private investigator in and around Ishgard. It would certainly give her a valid excuse to spend some more time with those she holds dear.[This story takes place after 4.01]





	Shell Game

Shopping with the first commander had gone about as well as Venice could have expected; that is to say, it didn’t produce the desired results. Dress shopping for a pureblood Garlean female was excessively difficult outside of their homeland. Her proportions lay somewhere between a female Highlander and a male Elezen, neither of which was particularly useful in a city predominately made up of Elezen and Hyur of normal sizes.  
  
Compounded with Lucia’s disinclination to “let her hair down” or willingness to speak about anything other than subjects related to her job, and Venice found the experience to be an unusual trial of her patience. While she could talk about combat techniques all day, that had not been the point of the exercise.  
  
She took it as a reprieve when the other woman began to ask questions of their upcoming dinner engagement. It seemed the only thing she was interested in besides swordsmanship was how best to impress the young count. Venice was more than happy to satiate her curiosity but she did find herself in the confounding situation of agreeing to be the so-called “wingman” for both parties, a problem she would have to rectify before the appointed evening lest she make a fool of everyone involved.  
  
Eventually they agreed that finding a suitable garment already made would be a lost cause in the amount of time they had available. Venice offered to tailor down a large dress if they could find one but they had no success with that method either. She suggested they try another time by visiting the boutiques in Limsa where Roegadyn women frequented the markets.  
  
With great reluctance, Lucia decided it was the best option, easier to alter something down to specifications rather than the other way around. Venice did not rate her weaver abilities highly enough to try from scratch. However, she did know a fair bit about stitching since she often struggled to find fashion within Eorzea to her modern tastes.    
  
Venice was more accustomed to wearing synthetic fabrics of either Garlean or Allagan design, not always the most practical for adventuring or long journeys. She was a mage first and foremost so there was some leeway with what she could get away with.  
  
Lucia, on the other hand, was a knight, a mighty warrior who was rarely seen out of her suit of adamantite armour, coloured in silver and lined in red as was customary for her rank. Venice was surprised to see her getting around in trousers and a lightweight tunic; the woman was more beautiful than she let on, a trait that would have been useful to the former Garlean spy.  
  
When Lucia relented her quest to look the part of an upstanding lady, Venice was greatly relieved. The sun had been beating down on the markets the whole afternoon, not a single flake of snow or droplet of rain had fallen in days. The plants in the gardens around the Pillars were soaking it all in, revealing new buds and adding some much needed colour to the grey streets.  
  
Business was booming in Ishgard. Peace time was a boon for the markets, it encouraged optimism and confidence in spending. The types of good had changed from arms and armour to conveniences and recreation. With more time available for leisurely pursuits, there was more interest in general consumption. While many bemoaned the increased presence of foreigners, those looking to line their pockets were not among them.  
  
The shops buzzed with constant activity, no longer limited to the central avenue which split down the middle of the Jeweled Crozier. Former residences had begun opening up as small family-run businesses on their lower floors, selling everything from clothing to furniture to groceries to exotic trinkets and beyond. The awkward transition between the Pillars and the Brume was packed with makeshift stalls of goods, mostly full of foreign merchants that couldn’t afford the more exuberant real-estate elsewhere.  
  
The Brume was not immune to the fervent energy seen in the Pillars though the prices peddled by its merchants were lower, as was the quality of their products. It was a million times better than it had been when Venice had first arrived in Ishgard after the Horde had destroyed much of that section of the city; the difference was absolutely staggering.  
  
The foreigners consisted of all sorts. She saw an Au Ra woman trying to sell Doman silks to the parents of some mindblown children who kept asking her where she got her horns and tail from. Instead of belittling them for their ignorance, she was making money. Greed transcended stereotypes and racism, whether it be for good for ill. It was highly satisfying watching the dragon-esque woman work her wiles in a city that had only recently made peace after a thousand year conflict with wyvern-kind.  
  
But that was Ishgard in a nutshell. While it appeared to be an old-fashioned city with conservative values, when presented with enough evidence to the contrary, the people would rather move forward than be seen as following a false narrative. Honour and duty still mattered, anyone could change their mind if given the chance to do so.  
  
Venice wished the rest of Eorzea  would open themselves to new ideas. She acknowledged that Ishgard had an unfair advantage in being blessed with a progressive leader intent to see the lives of all her citizens improve. Other leaders could claim the same but their actions did not mirror their words.  
  
Despite her speech, Venice was still rankled by the Alliance’s overall stubbornness. The more she thought about them, the angrier she got. Nobody had lifted a finger to assist Doma since its liberation, despite their timely assistance at the Battle of Ala Mhigo. There was still so much further to go. She wondered if she could ever bring Hien to Ishgard to show him the possibilities available to his newly reborn nation.  
  
Her empathy for Ala Mhigo was significantly less, had they not nearly destroyed themselves before the Garleans even arrived? And what of their constant bemoaning of a lack of support while they created some sort of bulwark against future incursions into Eorzea, which no one had asked them to do? Gyr Abania was little more than an inhospitable wasteland full of petty, squabbling people who deserved their freedom just as much as anyone else though it remained to be seen how they would pay for it.  
  
Venice passed a small stand of clockworks featuring figurines and ships based on Garlean images, made out of what might have been parts from the Garlean magitek creations they were meant to mimic. She really was beginning to miss the simple touring life back when her only ambition was to become a celebrated rockstar rather than the saviour of the entire realm. Whether it was because of the tiny, toy-sized weapons of mass destruction or her wayward thoughts about the future, Venice was too distracted to notice the short man with windswept white hair who stood in her path.  
  
“Hey watch where you’re.. oh it’s _you._ ”  
  
“Cid! What are you doing out here, old friend?”  
  
“Old! _Old_! Just because you’re a babe fresh off the teet doesn’t make me old.”  
  
“Shouldn’t you be keeping a tight rein on Nero’s leash?”  
  
“That is precisely why I found business that needed doing away from his reach. Who will drive the future of airship technology if I am to go mad?”  
  
“Is it wise to leave him alone with a weapon intent on destroying the world?”  
  
“Keep your voice down, woman. Besides the Ironworks has other responsibilities beyond babysitting Omega. For example, there are more trade routes in the skies now than ever before and yet our airships can barely keep pace with those in Garlemald. Nevermind our fewer numbers. We certainly could have used more ships in Ala Mhigo, good thing the Domans showed up when they did.”  
  
“Not only do we need more ships, we need more _warships_ ,” Venice said, waving her hand at the miniature warmachina on display. “How accurate do you reckon these are?”  
  
“Not very, they look the part to the civilian eye but to me they look like their creator only had a children’s book as a guide. Still, I intend to buy a few. It’ll open a dialogue so that I can find the source for the parts.”  
  
“Expecting trouble?”  
  
“Not so much, I might be in need of some working mechanisms for a few projects.”  
  
“Anything interesting?”  
  
“Venice, it’s _all_ interesting.”  
  
She begged to differ, playing with numbers or waiting on the exciting things to happen or not happen hardly seemed like an effective usage of her time.  
  
“Bugger me, must have left my coinpurse on the _Excelsior_. You wouldn’t mind keeping an old man company would you?”  
  
“Sure."

It occurred to her that aside from most of Ishgard knowing that she was Garlean, that her closest allies, the Scions and by extension Cid and his colleagues within the Ironworks, were still none the wiser. Keeping secrets was not something she wanted to be known for but the right time to mention it hadn’t presented itself.  
  
“Now where did I have it last…”  
  
While Cid scoured the Enterprise-class vessel, Venice took in the magnificent view from the docks. A thick fog was lifting, pushed on by a dry, westerly wind. The city looked as magical as ever, her arches slowly emerging from beneath the haze, the abyss beyond beckoning to her adventurer’s spirit. Perhaps she had overstayed her welcome and it was time to move onto whatever else Hydaelyn had in store for her.  
  
She looked back at the towers, the pillars, the statues of pious saints looking down upon the populace, it was home but that didn’t mean she couldn’t leave whenever she wanted. There was nothing to bind her to the city of Ishgard, she was not a moored airship waiting for a master to set her loose.  
  
“Found it. Oh, you’ve got that misty-eyed expression again,” Cid came up beside her, leaning against the ship’s railing. “You ever get tired of all the travelling back and forth?”  
  
“Not a chance,” she turned to face him, putting her back to the temptation of remaining stationary. “Lots of crates around here. Don’t tell me you’ve been roped into delivery work. Hardly befitting of a man of your talents.”  
  
“I wonder where you’ve picked up your sense of charm as of late, no doubt spending too much time around poncy nobles. Sometimes I miss the old Venice, the one that would swear so much that she’d make the Admiral blush.”  
  
“I still do that,” she said with a small laugh. “There is something calming about this place. There aren’t as many people trying to exploit me here as everywhere else.”  
  
“Maybe not you. There’s still plenty of bullshit if you open your eyes wide enough. But, knowing you, that’s the extra layer of character that you like to see,” he smirked.  As an engineer he appreciated logical, straightforward paths whereas she was far more creatively inclined with how she approached almost everything. The pair of them hadn’t had too many heart-to-heart chats but they were often on the same wavelength when it came to their opinions. “As for the goods, I am carting things to and from Idyllshire.”  
  
“Have they set up a dock yet?” She asked with surprise, trying to remember what the free city had looked like last time she had been there.  
  
“No, this ship is one of the few that can land close by so we try to keep things moving when we can in exchange for whatever knowledge the goblins have came up with since our last trip.”  
  
“So, what about the workshop in Revenant’s Toll, do you still go there too?”  
  
“What about it?” he shrugged. “The Ironworks has grown a lot, we’re spreading out with multiple crews in multiple locations working on numerous different projects. When’s the last time the Scions made use of the Rising Stones?”  
  
“Fair point. I guess we’re all constantly on the move these days.”  
  
“Speaking of moving parts, I had hoped to test a new prototype device in addition to playing courier.”  
  
Venice was only half-listening by that point, she thought something had caught the attention of her gaze, just out of the corner of her eye. It must have been a passing bird or some other benign object because she did not see anything out of the ordinary on the deck.  
  
“Bloody hell!” Cid exclaimed so suddenly she jumped with momentary fright.  
  
“What?!”  
  
“It’s gone, someone has crawled all the way under the gear mechanism and nicked it. How would they even know to look there? Stupid, I left it loose deliberately in case it needed to be removed mid-flight. Must have been after broken parts, probably has no idea what they stole.”  
  
“Well, I have no idea either. Can’t you make another.. whatever it is?” she looked around for any evidence of an unwanted passenger.  
  
None of the crates had been moved, there were no strange markings alluding to footprints, no tingling sense of recently disturbed aether like when a mage casted a spell or a magitek device had been used. Whoever had done the deed would have had to be quick and quite small in stature to sneak around; a rogue or a couple of rogues with a great deal of experience under their belts. Venice could feel a sense of excitement building as she tried to unravel the mystery.    
  
“Make another! You’re not familiar with the term ‘prototype’ are you, it’s one-of-a-kind,” Cid was less than thrilled about the impending case of a stolen object. “We must recover it right away.”  
  
“What’s so special about it?”  
  
He gave her a long, breathless explanation about trajectories, weather patterns, fuel injection systems, aether condensation, ceruleum efficiency, something about the flight speed of a Meracydian sparrow, and several other descriptions of nonsensical technobabble. By the end, he had worked himself into a panic about the potential implications that the theft might have on the future of technological advancement for the entire world.  
  
“Cid, you may as well be speaking Hingan to me,” she said suddenly, snapping her fingers in front of his face to snap him out of it.  
  
“It makes the _vroom vroom_ better,” he chided her in a condescending tone, motioning forward movement with his arms. When that failed to dissolve the look of confusion which she was most certainly showing, he tried one last time in a calm, steady voice, “It calibrates several variables which allow the ship to fly faster than normal without having to radically change the engine or any other mechanism involved.”  
  
“Uh-huh. What does it look like, how heavy is it?”  
  
“The device is a small handheld thing with lots of coloured buttons which light up when pressed. There is a little monitor which depicts squiggly lines when its on. I’m hoping to upgrade it with a holographic overlay eventually. I haven’t given it a proper name yet, let’s just call it a Calibrator for now.”  
  
“We could go back to that shop with the toys, maybe its been pawned off there,” she suggested.  
  
“Aye, you go ahead. I’ll report the theft and make sure the slippery miscreant doesn’t spirit themselves away on another one of these vessels.”  
  
The shopkeeper was merely a distributor, knowing nothing about the origin of his products. After a bit of coaxing, and the promise of handing out advertisement leves, he told Venice of a supplier in Idyllshire though he knew not if that was where the machina were crafted.  
She found it curious that there were so many layers,  a figurative paper trail, involved in something so simple as decorative figurines.  
  
Usually when she solved problems she would be pointed at some world-destroying beast and told to stop it by any means necessary. Normal people had daily routines, their conflicts were considerably less dangerous which was balanced out by their bureaucratic complexity.  
  
When she found Cid again, he was having an intense discussion with Ser Handeloup, the second commander for the Temple Knights, who had the grave misfortune of being on duty at the time. Before Venice could make an effort to calm her friend down again, there was a loud crashing sound emitting from further down the street. The knight spun around almost instantly to face the disturbance, his hand dropping to the hilt of his blade as he did so.  
  
Again Venice saw nothing out of the ordinary aside from some disheveled shoppers which had moved out of the way. The street was too crowded for running so she looked up for inspiration, catching sight of some patchy scaffolding that extended down most of the street’s length. She then tried to catch sight of the second commander which wasn’t particularly difficult given his height.  
  
“Hey you with the really long legs,” she said, interrupting the knight as he tried to reassure the citizens that the situation was under control. He continued to ignore her attempts for his attention, “Ser Cantaloupe!”  
  
“ _It’s Ser Handeloup_ ,” he snapped at her, then upon recognising who he was speaking to, his expression softened, “What is it Mistress Lysander?”  
  
“Think you could lift me up there?” she pointed.  
  
“I don’t see how..” he paused and looked around, the streets were swelling with people and the thief was getting away. “Alright, if you want to help then who am I to say no.”  
  
It took a few moments to find a suitable spot to gain enough purchase. There were some crates, a ladder or two, barrels of who knew what and a gap wide enough that Venice required standing upon the sceptical knight’s solid shoulders. For once, she was grateful for the obnoxiously large pauldrons worn by Temple Knight officers.  
  
“Can you see anything?” he called up, she shook her head in response.  
  
“I’ll cover this path, see if you can take the street that leads back to the docks. Make sure he has nowhere to hide along the way.”  
  
“Would help if we knew what he looked like. The first shopkeeper described him as a Doman boy, maybe ten summers in age.”  
  
“That’s somewhat helpful, I’ll whistle if I find him.”  
  
As Venice scrambled across the incomplete scaffolding and highly slanted rooftops, she began to wish she had taken her dragoon training more seriously. Estinien had always made it look so gods’ damn easy, soaring above the ground like a wyvern on the hunt.  
  
Another crashing noise, merchandise spilled into the streets, cries of disgruntled shoppers, shattering glass, the high-pitch shouting of a young girl in distress. Venice saw a face she recognised hunched over the shards of some broken potion vials. The gap to the next wooden platform was too great to cross so she made her way delicately down to the ground by way of conveniently close-together window sills. The cobblestones of the street were reassuring once she landed upon them.  
  
“Maelie? What’s wrong?” Venice bent down to the small girl’s level.  
  
“I was buying medicine for Mama then this kid knocked me over and now its all ruined. I haven’t got any gil left to buy more,” the lowborn Elezen tried to dry her eyes with the back of her dirtied sleeve. Venice could have sworn she was an orphan like most of the other kids from the Brume.  
  
“I’ll cover the cost, will that work?”  
  
Maelie’s eyes lit up, “But wouldn’t I owe you something in return?”  
  
“How about this for an exchange: you tell me where that boy went and if I find him, I’ll throw in a bit of extra. You can get the potions now since they’re more important.”  
  
“I’ll find the rest of the Watch right away, we’ll get him,” she balled her hand into a fist and ran off, forgetting all about her errand. The apothecary owner glared at Venice when she saw the mess the child had left behind. Venice was even more dubious about the “sick mama” that Maelie had conjured up but she kept her word and paid for the potions all the same.  
  
She wandered back towards the docks to see if her comrades had had any better luck. Cid had retired to his ship’s quarters in the wishful hope that his device would turn up of its own accord, leaving Venice alone with the reserved knight.  
  
“Any joy, Cantaloupe?” Venice asked her new partner in solving crime.  
  
“It’s.. you’re winding me up aren’t you?” the tall Elezen said. He had a tired look about him.  
  
“At least you’re catching on,” she patted him on the shoulder. “I haven’t found anything yet but let’s just say.. I have an informant on the case.”  
  
“What is a cantaloupe anyway?” He raised a curious eyebrow.  
  
“It’s.. honestly, I have no idea. There used to be hawkers in the markets back home trying to sell them.”  
  
Something caught his attention back the way they had come. He took off at high speed with Venice trying in vain to keep pace. She saw him too, for the first time: a boy with dark hair and eyes, a little over her waist in height wearing ragged clothes, a leather satchel busting with contents slung over his shoulder. They chased him for several minutes without gaining much ground. Then he disappeared as they were blocked by foot traffic.  
  
They stopped by some unopened crates to catch their breath. Handeloup lunged at something and emerged with a squirming boy under one arm. Well, not exactly a boy given the small goatee. And the pointed ears were not typical for a Hyur. The clothes were too expensive, covered in glitz and fake rhinestones.  
  
“Cantaloupe, I hate to tell you but that’s a Lalafell,” Venice said while trying to stifle her amusement.  
  
“Is it? Oh, my mistake,” he didn’t seem to bothered by the revelation, merely disappointed that their quarry had escaped once more.  
  
“Put me down this instant ser!” the shady-looking Ul’dahn demanded. He might not have been the thief, but just what he had been doing lurking around behind the stalls in a suspicious manner didn’t exactly make him seem like an innocent man. And Venice was always sceptical of a Lalafell’s intentions.  
   
“If you insist..” Handeloup shrugged, dropping the man per his wishes. From a height of at least a yalm in the air.  
  
“Why, I never! Your superior will be hearing about this,” he shook his fist like a child throwing a tantrum then sauntered off.  
  
“That’s going to make Lucia’s day,” Handeloup grinned for the first time that afternoon.  
  
“I think she could do with the laugh,” Venice agreed.  
  
More time passed with the thief still at large. The docks were secured by alerted patrols, the shops went on about their business as if nothing was wrong, the afternoon waned into early evening and still nothing. As the street lamps began to light, a small figure emerged from an alley with a triumphant grin.  
  
“The Watch has eyes on him in the lower levels, where all the warehouses are,” Maelie said to Venice, oblivious to Handeloup’s presence.  
  
“Good girl, here’s what I owe you,” Venice handed over some coins to the child’s greedy, outstretched hands. “Your potions are waiting back at that shop whenever you can pick them up.”  
  
“Oh thank you Miss Venice!”  
  
“By the Fury, did you just bribe a child? You can’t go around doing that,” Handeloup fixed Venice with a distasteful stare, she shrugged.  
  
“It worked didn’t it?”  
  
“What sort of habits will she develop now that she thinks she’ll get rewarded?”  
  
“Not my problem..”  
  
“You’re clearly not a parent, my own daughter is about her age.”  
  
“Just.. how old are you? It's so hard to tell with Elezen.”  
  
“Let’s go find this thief and be done with this business,” he sighed, following after a jubilant Maelie who was beckoning the pair to follow her.  
  
The bowels of the Brume’s lowest reaches were dark, so dark that the small party had to utilise torches to see where they were going. Venice was bemused, they were genuine torches, the kind with actual fire not the ones that were encased in a metal handle with a crystal emitting light through a glass pane via the power of a magitek power source.  
  
_How very Ishgard._  
  
The warehouses themselves were plentiful and large. They were long stone buildings divided up into sections for all matter of matériel, some of it military in purpose and others more ubiquitous in nature. While the upper levels were designed for living, storage below was necessary for a city that had to bring in everything that sustained that comfortable lifestyle. The outposts and garrisons beyond the city proper were not used solely for defence, they were the places where food was gathered and materials were procured.  
  
Venice suspected that before the Calamity it wasn’t quite as important to hoard things throughout the everlasting winter months, she wondered what the lower levels might have held back then. Probably nothing good, judging by the tight pathways between buildings. She had seen her fair share of creepy, unlit dungeons filled with unsavoury creatures, the stretches of emptiness made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She half-expected a void monster or a crazed robed figure to come lashing around every corner. Her companions were wide-eyed and alert as well though they didn’t seem quite as daunted, it was still a part of their blessed city even if it no longer looked cozy and inviting.  
  
Maelie walked along as if she knew where she was going, occasionally raising her torch to check for pebbles or other markings along the way. Sometimes she would stop suddenly without the adults noticing then disappear down a narrow laneway which they could not follow her down to get her bearings. More than once, Handeloup swore that she was toying with them, leading them on some wild dodo chase for the amusement of the other orphans that lurked in the darkness.  
  
But they were too far in to make their way back out again without her help so Venice tried to reassure him that whatever they were being led to could be dealt with handedly by the pair of them. As if to further the point, or mayhaps to alleviate her own concerns, she unsheathed her staff and held it close to her chest in a backwards grip. The green glow of the Sindri Lux relic used to seem placid and calming, in the complete darkness it only enhanced the ominous feeling around them.  
  
“Wait,” Handeloup put his hand out to stop Venice. “Did you hear that?”  
  
“No?”  
  
“Fury preserve us, that better not be the sound I think it is..”  
  
“We’re getting close, it has to be one these buildings near here,” Maelie said with a complete lack of certainty.  
  
“You did see where he went right?” Venice felt like she should have asked it much earlier.  
  
“Well, not exactly. I saw him disappear in this direction but never followed too close,” Maelie admitted.  
  
“Great,” Handeloup said with the utmost sarcasm, which surprised Venice a little since she thought he was supposed to be the super serious one.  
  
“Smart,” Venice approved. “You didn’t want to blow your cover. I’ll give you a few more coins for not putting yourself in danger.”  
  
“ _Really_ , Venice? Do you have to encourage her?”  
  
They went through a door into a room filled to the brim with dragonkillers and other sorts of large-scale siegecraft. A chirping noise like that belonging to a small animal greeted them. Handeloup searched for a lantern along the wall to light but needn’t have bothered for there was ample fire in the next room.  
  
“Get it away from me!” the thief squeaked, pinned to the wall by a chocobo-sized dragonet.  
  
Spotty flames licked at various crates around them, not enough to endanger the integrity of the room but certainly enough to instill panic. One of the crates had been pried open, revealing a clutch of 4 immense eggs with dark shells. Venice had seen eggs like that in that Aery, her heart stopped for a second as she tried to process the scene before them.  
  
“I really hate being right,” Handeloup grimaced, grabbing for his sword.  
  
Images of Venice’s descent into the Coils surfaced then, the sight of thousands of dragons imprisoned in tiny cells by their Allagan captors, waiting to be freed but never getting the chance. When Bahamut was finally destroyed, their lives had also been forfeited. They had not deserved that fate, neither had the many dragons which had died during the Dragonsong War though most Ishgardians would stoutly disagree. There had been enough senseless death for both wyrm and mankind, she could not abide by it.  
  
She stood with her arms out between the boy and the baby dragon, between the pair of them and Handeloup’s hungry blade.  
  
“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?”  
  
“We can find another way to resolve this,” she shouted at him. Maelie looked between them both, unsure of whose side to take.  
  
“Look at its scales, Venice, they are black!”  
  
“Racist much?”  
  
“That dragonet is a spawn of Nidhogg!” he shouted over her. “It must be destroyed. For the sake of peace, the Horde must not be allowed to continue anew.”  
  
Maelie made up her mind and joined Venice. The dragonet was too feral to care about the newcomers’ intentions. It lunged out with its razor-sharp talons, its wings wide-spread. Both children screamed out in terror, Venice raised her staff to cast a blinding Holy spell. While the ball of energy rose and grew, she planted her feet back on the ground and encircled them all with an Asylum bubble should the fires begin to spread.  
  
Handeloup went straight for the creature’s skinny neck, trying to cut it down before it could take flight, he half-succeeded drawing forth sickly black blood which gathered on the ground where it had once roosted. Between the gaping wound and the enclosed space, the fight left the dragonling almost immediately. It fell back unceremoniously onto the crate which harboured its unhatched siblings.  
  
“Is it..” the boy asked, getting back to his feet while clutching at his crippled shoulder, dark red blood dripping through his fingers.  
  
“You killed it,” Maelie cried. She climbed the crate to the dragonet with considerable ease then placed its monstrous head in her lap. “Venice, use your healing magics. Hurry.”  
  
“I can’t, Maelie,” Venice said quietly. “I can’t resurrect a body that is completely dead. Not even one belonging to a dragon.”  
  
Maelie’s tears accumulated on her cheeks as she closed the beast’s eyes for the final time. She rubbed its scales as if she were petting a coeurl and muttered what might have been a prayer. It had nearly killed her and yet she was compelled with compassion. Venice tried to keep her focus on Handeloup so that she wouldn’t tear up as well.    
  
Handeloup returned his blade to its scabbard. The remissant boy came straight up to him, knowing that he was in more trouble than he should have been if not for the dragon. Instead of giving him further grief, the knight set about binding the boy’s wound with some loose cloth found nearby.  
  
“How long have you been down here?” he asked while examining the child’s other limbs.  
  
“Couple of days. I wasn’t trying to take anything anybody would miss, honest.”  
  
“But you were stealing nonetheless,” Handeloup reprimanded him. “Are you from Doma? How did you end up all the way out here? What of the dragon eggs, do you know where they came from? What about Master Garlond’s device?”  
  
“Cantaloupe, ease up would you?” Venice said gently, bending down to double-check his first aid handiwork. “I doubt he’s responsible for this. It doesn’t look like he has anything but the clothes on his back.”  
  
“We should burn the rest of them before they hatch,” he said without emotion.  
  
“No!” Maelie squealed from across the room.  
  
“I can understand self-defence against the one that was alive. But to condemn innocents? Let’s find a better solution,” Venice urged him.  
  
“Do you have any idea how many knights we lost when Nidhogg landed on the Steps of Faith? Nevermind all the ones before that point. They are hardly innocent,” he bit back his anger.  
  
“I was there, I know believe me,” she said with a heavy sigh. “But shouldn’t we be looking forward rather than back? What do you think Aymeric would have us do?”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“Well, you’re the one in command right now so whatever you decide, that’s what we’ll go with.”  
  
“We should get more information about the eggs,” Handeloup said after a moment. “If they aren’t ready to hatch, maybe we can do something about moving them.”  
  
“Alright, sounds like a plan. Let’s get ourselves an expert down here to take a look. We can seek one out when we take the boy to the infirmary. With a watchful guard to look after him, of course.”  
  
The four of them slowly made their way back to Foundation, Maelie sticking close to the boy who went by the name of Shen. Handeloup took point and Venice covered their rear. All of them were exhausted by the time they made their way back to the Congregation.  
  
\---  
  
Once the boy was secured, Maelie tugged on Venice’s wrist, expressing a sense of concern that had been building in her since they left the dead dragon behind. “I don’t want your coins, I want something else instead.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Venice said, looking down at her, unsure if it was considered rude to always stand at a child’s height when they spoke.  
  
“I want to ride the white dragon again,” the girl said, screwing her face into a look of determination. The tears had dried, she was ready to be brave.  
  
“That’s not going to be easy,” Venice crossed her arms and thought for a second.  
  
“I want her to know we aren’t all bad people,” Maelie’s eyes were big, full of wonder like most children. There was a hint of pride there as well, a sense of honour that Ishgardians held dear.  
  
“I could tell her for you, Handeloup’s probably going to send me out to Anyx Trine soon anyway.”  
  
“I need to show her,” Maelie insisted. “We’re not so different from the dragons, are we?”  
  
“No, no we are not,” Venice smiled, trying to put Maelie at ease, “Alright, I’ll talk to the lord commander on your behalf, we’ll work something out.”  
  
“Are you making more fanciful promises to an impressionable youngster?” Handeloup came up then, his hands on his hips. He didn’t seem particularly outraged, if Venice had to guess he was attempting to wind her up.  
  
“Don’t worry your pretty ears over it, Hilda will be here soon to take her home for the night.”  
  
“Good, that’s one less thing on my mind then.”  
  
“Where is Aymeric anyway?”  
  
“Locked behind some overrun committee meeting, most likely. Poor bastard,” Handeloup smirked. Venice suspected the bastard jokes never got old around the Congregation hall.  
  
“Did you find our dragon expert yet?”  
  
“Aye, I’ve sent Master Garlond out to Tailfeather to fetch him. Best we can do on short notice and I would not waste time while there is a clutch of dragons beneath the city,” Handeloup began to pace while they waited for the new arrival. “The last vestiges of an old era. Can you imagine the destruction they could wield, even at hatchling size? They would be in the perfect position to destroy us from within. What senseless person would do such a thing? It had to have been an intentional ploy.”  
  
“Not necessarily. They were in storage, mayhaps they weren’t supposed to remain there. The borders have been opening, right? All those extra merchants coming and going on a regular basis. Maybe there are unscrupulous types trying to carve out their own market in the shadows.”  
  
“What, like Limsan pirates or smugglers?” Handeloup stopped to consider the notion. “How stupid does anyone need to be to deal in dragon eggs.”  
  
“They would make for a lucrative commodity, especially now that the Horde has been decimated. Think of all the sort of people who would make use of them. Cultists, mostly. But what if there were a more sinister element, as you suggested, actively trying to take advantage of the peace we fought so hard for?”  
  
Their dire thoughts threatened to descend the conversation further into a lightless void of undesirable possibilities until the welcome sound of a door closing interrupted them. Cid entered the room with an elderly, black-haired Miqo’te in tow.  
  
“Fascinating,” the wide-eyed academic proclaimed. “Where is this specimen? I am so eager to dissect my first one.”  
  
“Your _first_?” Cid looked down at his guest. “Do you want me to take him back before it gets too cold out?”  
  
“Now, now. I’ve read every book, every treatise, every piece of literature in existence and some no longer so on the subject of dragon biology. You won’t find a deeper font of knowledge.”  
  
“Well, if that’s all it takes to become an expert these days then that makes me a meister of cheese,” Handeloup said mirthfully. Again Venice was surprised by his willingness to give into sarcasm, mayhaps he wasn’t a stick in the mud after all. She must have given him a quizzical expression because he shrugged and added, “What, a man needs a hobby.”  
  
“Right, you two take him down and see if you can figure out anything useful. Mayhaps you can measure the amount of aether in the eggs to determine their age? I don’t know, you’re the science guy, Cid. I’m going to port over to Anyx Trine and ask for Vidofnir’s opinion on the matter.”  
  
“What about my Calibrator, did you find it yet?” Cid asked.  
  
“Nay, Shen said he already fenced it before we got to him,” Handeloup said. “We’ll ask him more questions when he’s recovered.”  
  
“Damn it all, back to the drawing board with that one,” Cid kicked at the ground. “Really hope it doesn’t make its way into the wrong hands, if we’re lucky it will get used as scrap and nothing more.”  
  
“Gentlemen? Are we off to see a dragon now?” the Miqo’te asked. Venice took that as her opportunity to port out.  
  
\---  
  
Based on Venice’s physical descriptions of the dragonet, Vidofnir was convinced that it had hatched prematurely. The suspicion was confirmed by Cid and the so-called dragon expert when she returned. What nobody could deduce for sure was how long they had before the eggs were actually due.  
  
Venice had used the rest of her audience with Vidofnir to come up with a temporary plan for the removal of the eggs. Vidofnir herself was too old to hatch or raise them but she suggested they could delay the hatching long enough to wait for another prospective consort. Once one was ready, they could then mix the eggs in with those belonging to one of Hraevelgr’s brood. The Nidhogg spawn would not be raised to hear the song of their true sire and could decide their own fates when they were old enough. The process would differ little from when a house of Ishgard raised an orphan as one of its wards. As a former ward herself, Venice thought it was poetic solution.  
  
There was, however, a glaring twist in the proverbial dragon’s tail.  
  
Dragon eggs were highly susceptible to temperature changes. They would need to be put in a cold environment for a long period of time. Nowhere in Coerthas was suitable, there were not enough sentient dragons to watch over the eggs in the cold mountains. What would have been ideal was to keep them close to Anyx Trine, where they would not be disturbed by outside influences. But Anyx Trine was situated at the base of Sohm Al, a conventionally hot volcano.  
  
The eggs would need to be a surrounded by a thick layer of ice-aspected crystals, the sort the cultists who once followed Saint Shiva would have used in their summoning rituals. The quantity of the crystals would have to be vast, making them a target for any lingering cultists who had not been pardoned by the church in the aftermath of the war. And there were two beast tribes who also called Dravania home that could make use of the crystals for their own ends.  
  
Despite the imposing challenges and risks involved, the Temple Knight leadership agreed that a concentrated effort needed to be made to ensure the survival of the unhatched dragonlings. The decision was made in part because Venice had already exposed the knowledge of their presence to Vidofnir and her kin. Given the lack of time on their side to make the transition go as smoothly as possible, nobody faulted her for taking the initiative. On the contrary, Aymeric saw an opportunity to slay two dragons with one lance, as he so often did.  
  
While Lucia favoured a stealthy approach to the operation, he advocated the complete opposite. The troops were freshly rested from their campaign in the East but they would need combat exercises to keep them in peak condition for the next deployment when it arrived. He would turn their simple escort of the crystals and the eggs into a full blown march meant to test the endurance of the knights of all four houses. With ample numbers, they would not be an inviting target. Should they meet any resistance along the way, the experience would serve to educate the knights on how to prepare for ambushes and other unpredictable conditions.  
  
Once they arrived at Anyx Trine, the dragons would take over guard duty so long as the eggs remained there. Dragons had no use for summoning primals so there was little danger in leaving the crystals in their care. They were also unlikely to see much opposition in the place where they congregated in great numbers. When the time came to move the eggs again, the knights would do another escort.  
  
In that way, it forced the two formerly opposing sides of the Dragonsong War to work together to protect the peace they had won. The eggs would see a future free of the tyranny that had once held the rest of Nidhogg’s brood captive and the knights of Ishgard would be reminded that they were to work with dragons rather than against them. The alliance would serve other purposes in the future such as dissuading the Garleans from advancing on their shared territory.  
  
\---  
  
Several days were required to make the arrangements needed to prepare the caravan for its journey across the Western Highlands. During that time the eggs, were kept at the top of the beacon at Falcon’s Nest which itself remained unlit until the operation was ready to commence. Everyone knew their task and set about completing it without hesitation. Not even the chilling blizzards would deter them.  
  
Venice was taken aback by the sheer size of the operation as well as by the sense of grandeur which accompanied everyone’s efforts. She had not seen every arm of the Ishgardian military working together in such a way before, not even when they had mixed seamlessly with the Alliance forces in Gyr Abania. There was something uplifting about watching fighting men and women putting their talents for combat to use on a mission of peace.  
  
The crystals had been sourced from the stashes left behind in Snowcloak by redemptive cultists. The former cultists were attempting to start their lives over by returning to live within the city’s walls, under the church’s watchful protection. Not all had converted after the truth had been shared with the rest of their countrymen but many did not see the point in living like vagabonds any longer.  
  
House Durendaire and a small team led by Ser Handeloup saw to the accounting of the stockpiles before they were transported by airship to Falcon’s Nest. The airships escorts were maintained by House Haillenarte. Once the deliveries were made, House Dzemael’s knights saw to loading the caravans and double-checking that everyone had the right equipment for the upcoming venture. House Fortemps was in charge of maintaining manpower, a job Lord Emmanellain found more enjoyable once he discovered that Ser Laniaiatte was commanding the Rose Knight contigent. All four houses were to assist in the actual escort through Coerthas and into Dravania alongside the Temple Knights which made up the bulk of the guard.  
  
The sight that astonished her the most was seeing genuine Ishgardian cavalry in the field, they looked the stuff of legends: a heavily-armoured knight riding upon his or her majestic dark chocobo steed, also laden in shining armour, either on the ground or in the air with the rest of their unit at full speed, weapon drawn or banner held aloft. She had been compelled to leave her own chocobo, Antonius, behind at Camp Dragonhead when he had caught sight of his mate, Octavia, at the stables after a prolonged absence away from her side.  
  
Octavia was a thoroughbred, Ishgardian bo with jet black feathers and steely temperament. While she had been a gift from Haurchefant, Venice had found it more useful to donate her pedigree status to hatching some of Camp Dragonhead’s newest generation of cavalry birds rather than using her as a personal mount. Somehow she didn’t think Haurchefant would have minded.  
  
It didn’t bother her to join the march on foot, not at first. Once they got within sight of the Dreaming Dragon, her calves were beginning to regret the decision wholeheartedly. Venice spent too much time zipping around the realm through aetherytes and on the backs of some of the most exotic creatures that she had forgotten how difficult walking in yalm-high snow could be. The spearmen who walked alongside the wagons as they made their way through the vast canyons of ice tried to cheer her up whenever they could. She tried not to complain too much, at least she wasn’t burdened with chainmail or large packs of camping equipment.  
  
Temporary relief was granted when they made camp in the valley just past the small gap that marked the border with Dravania. They were not to disturb the hunting village of Tailfeather as they passed through with their large numbers though the hunters knew they would be coming.  
  
“Have you eaten yet?” Venice turned to find a red-haired Elezen offering her a bowl of stew.  
  
“Oh, thank you, Lani,” she eagerly accepted the bowl. Ser Laniaitte sat down beside her, across the way other knights were tucking into their suppers.  
  
“It feels strange to stand on solid ground again,” the knight mused.  
  
“Tell me about it,” Venice nodded in Emmanellain’s direction, “When are you going to stop stringing him along?”  
  
She frowned, “It's difficult, you know? His heart is always in the right place but his head.. He’s not as smart as his brothers.”  
  
“Well, I can’t entirely disagree with you.”  
  
“And what of you and the lord commander?”  
  
“We’re friends,” Venice said carefully.  
  
“Venice, you’re the only person he doesn’t refer to by title or rank, there has to be more going on there. Even Haurchefant, who he grew up with, was always ‘Lord Haurchefant’,” Laniaitte looked slightly uncomfortable saying his name out loud. Venice got the impression that that was the real reason why she wasn’t giving Emmanellain a fair go.  
  
She had seen very little of Aymeric since they left Ishgard. He had ridden with the vanguard, not content with giving orders from afar. When she did lay eyes on him, he seemed completely at ease, as if thoroughly enjoying being in the field where he was most effective. He had had the same positive glow about him in Ala Mhigo. As far as she could tell, he seemed to be happiest when he wasn’t confined to the city of stone and steel. She would love to see him that relaxed more often.  
  
“I should probably turn in early, I’m not as fit as the rest of you,” Venice said once she was finished with her meal. She was getting kind of tired of everyone passing judgement on her relationship status. There would be plenty of time to figure it out later.  
  
\---  
  
“Are we there yet?” Maelie asked.  
  
“Are you going to keep asking that?” Venice sighed.  
  
“Are we there _yet_?”  
  
“You’ll know when you see the tower.”  
  
“The one that looks like it belongs in Ishgard?”  
  
“Yes, how did you know?”  
  
“Well-spotted, Maelie,” Aymeric said, joining the pair of them. Venice hadn’t even heard his chocobo’s talons hit the ground, she looked over to see that it's raven-like feathers had turned almost blue in the afternoon sun. “As you can see, the style of our buildings has not changed much since the time of our ancestors.”  
  
“Thank you, I’m learning how to be an adventurer like Venice,” she boasted. The young Elezen dug her legs further into Venice’s midsection as she strained to get a better view.  
  
“There’s more to adventuring than literally riding my shoulders all the way since Tailfeather..” Venice complained.  
  
“Are you certain it was such a good idea to bring a child to the Forelands?” he asked for what must have been the third time in as many bells.  
  
“Right into the heart of dragon territory with enough crystals in tow to summon a primal or two? What could possibly go wrong,” Venice would have waved her arms in exasperation if she could. “I made her a promise.”  
  
“Aye, though I wonder what Vidofnir will make of it.”  
  
“Guess we’ll find out.”  
  
They had left the tall mangroves behind, replacing them with flat, open grasslands.  
  
“I thought I heard a bandernatch cry earlier,” Maelie said casually. Venice was slightly envious that she was at just the right level to engage in conversation with Aymeric while she was forced to play as her pack chocobo.  
  
“One of our scouting parties encountered a pack roaming too close so they had to engage a couple of them before the rest were routed,” he confirmed. “They will make for fine pelts once the hunters are done with them.”  
  
“Can I see them before then?” Maelie said with morbid excitement.  
  
“You’ll have to ask Ser Handeloup about that.”  
  
“Oh. Nevermind.” she went quiet again as they trudged along the ruins of an old stonework road.  
  
“She’s still mad at him,” Venice explained. “Are all Ishgardian children so unphased by the concept of death?”  
  
“Why shouldn’t they be? We’ve all seen so much of it.”  
  
The three of them continued on to the steps at the base of the main tower while the knights separated into their designated groups. Some split up to keep the wildlife and any nosey cultists at bay, others coordinated with the local Vath to let them know of the potential dangers while the operation was underway, most stuck behind with the wagons to ensure there were no interruptions close to the towers. The main group consisted of diggers with shovels and pick-axes, their task was to clear away the crumpled remains of one of the towers, then to hollow out the inside, preparing the new egg chamber for its guests and crystal compliment. A handful of scouting parties kept eyes on the various mountain passes that fed into the region.  
  
Once Maelie was satisfied that the stairs leading up to Vidofnir’s level were not too dirty for her new adventurer’s garb, she took point without Venice’s assistance. Though she had met the elder dragon before, she was still astonished to see her large, white form lounging about her chamber.  
  
“You don’t have to be shy, Maelie, you’ve met Vidofnir before, remember?” Venice encouraged her.  
  
“Welcome to my humble abode,” the large dragon bowed her head in their direction. She greeted them each in turn, “Warrior of Man, Son of Thordan, Child of Man.”  
  
“Lady Vidofnir,” Aymeric bowed deeply before her. “We have come to express our thanks for your brood’s assistance. It seems we are making a habit of seeking your aide.”  
  
“We are happy that thou gave these eggs a second-chance when others would not have done the same. Why dost thou bring the smaller one with thee?”  
  
Venice nodded to the young girl who took her cue to walk up to Vidofnir. “I’ve come to say that I am very sorry for the bad adults who hurt your brothers and sisters.”  
  
The elder dragon extended her neck out so that Maelie could pet her scales, “Apologies have already been made, young one. Now we must let the healing begin. What will thy brood do differently than thine’s forebears?”  
  
“We will fight!” Maelie declared. “We will fight alongside you because there are other bad people out there and not all of them are in Ishgard.”  
  
“That is a sound plan,” Vidofnir agreed. She looked over at the young Elezen’s companions to see if they had anything to add.  
  
“I think she’s said all that needs saying, don’t you?” Aymeric said to Venice. She nodded. “Well, then. If that is decided, there is one more humble request we would make of you, if you are willing, Lady Vidofnir.”  
  
“Anything for the Son of Thordan,” she made a rumbling noise that might have been the equivalent of a dragon laugh, Venice wasn’t entirely sure but her eyes did light up significantly when she focused her attention back on him.  
  
He cleared his throat, shot Venice a look of “why do I have to do it”, then proceeded, ”It is Maelie’s wish to fly on the back of her favourite white dragon once more. I know you are likely quite busy and we’ve already imposed enough on you and yours but..”  
  
“This is good timing, my hunt begins after sundown and I would scour the plains to select my evening prey soon. She may accompany while I do this,” Vidofnir made the cheerful noise again.  
  
“Ah, splendid,” he beamed then motioned to Maelie, “What have you to say?”  
  
“Thank you, Vidofnir! Thank you ever so much.”  
  
“It would be best to meet at the top of the tower where there are less obstacles to get in the child’s way, I will be there shortly after I’ve seen the progress that ye have made,” with that she raised onto her haunches and extended her wings to their full length. Delicately, for she was still an elderly dragon, she lifted herself off the ground and flew out the narrow hole above them.  
  
“What are we waiting for, let’s go,” Maelie ran off down the hallway, propelled by an abundance of excitement that only a child could muster. She stopped suddenly when she saw another high spiral of large, stone stairs.  
  
“Please, Maelie, no. You did such a great job on the last staircase, like a true hero of the realm,” Venice begged, her back aching at the very thought of doing the deed once more.  
  
“But I should save my strength for flying!” the child argued.  
  
“And so you shall,” Aymeric bent down beside her so they were nearly the same height. “I will carry you to Vidofnir.”  
  
“ _Really_?” Venice did not think it was possible for the child to be more excited and yet there it was. She could hardly blame her, she probably would have made the same shrieking noise if she were in her boots.  
  
“Why are your shoulders so big?” Maelie asked while she got into position.  
  
“It is so that my men can easily see me at a great distance,” he responded.  
  
“Can’t your enemies do that too?”  
  
“Sometimes that is a desirable effect.”  
  
Venice snickered, “So you’re not over-compensating for anything?”  
  
He gave her a sideways glance along with a very confident smile, “I assure you, there is nothing to over-compensate for. My sword is of ample size and girth.”  
  
Venice opened her mouth to retort but was stymied by Maelie’s innocent expression.  
  
“What are you two talking about?” she groaned, sounding annoyed that they were leaving her out.  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“Big people stuff,” Venice added quickly. The rest of the ascent was silent, though there was plenty to think about along the way.  
  
\---  
  
Venice watched from a distance as Aymeric helped Maelie onto Vidofnir’s bareback. Without reins or saddle, she had to be shown the gaps between specific scales where she was allowed to grip with her hands as well as instructed in how to use her legs to stay balanced upright. He was incredibly patient with her, answering all questions and offering reassurance when needed. He had that way about him any time he gave commands, that soft, all-knowing voice that could bolster anyone’s confidence. Venice took great pleasure in watching him do what he did best.  
  
The trust between dragon and rider had to be absolute, their feelings fed off each other. Venice hoped that in the future more of Hraesvelgr’s brood would be integrated with specifically-trained knights for that selfsame purpose. She imagined a sky full of dragon riders charging at sluggish Garlean airships. What a glorious sight it would be.  
  
The pair took off, leaving Venice and Aymeric alone atop the tallest tower.  
  
“I think she has a crush on you,” Venice teased. She could not tell whether it was the dwindling sunlight radiating against his light skin or if he was actually blushing.  
  
“I suppose we cannot decide who falls in love with us,” He kept his focus on Maelie and Vidofnir as they soared closer to the mud spires of the nearest Gnath colony.  
  
“No, I suppose not.” Venice watched on, catching sight of a pair of cavalry riders riding off on a standard patrol below them. On closer inspection, she recognised the heraldry on their shields and grinned. One had a rose, the other a unicorn.  
  
“You put Laniaitte and Emmanelain together on purpose.”  
  
“Did I?” He tried to hide his smile. He was a terrible liar and he knew it.  
  
“Why are you so bloody smart?” The question was rhetorical but she was mildly curious where he had picked up the trait. She had met many intelligent people in her travels, some book smart and others tactically smart, he was somewhere in between both extremes.  
  
“Because I have to be. That’s how I survived. You are used to seeing me as a highborn but that has not always been the case.”  
  
She knew very little about his life before assuming the mantle of lord commander, he never spoke of it. What she did know was that he loved Ishgard with every fibre of his being and that the people of Ishgard had not always returned the gesture. He had started at the bottom, lower than most had, having to rise to his current station through hard work and sheer force of will, eventually earning the respect that his peers took for granted. If he was hiding painful memories behind those quiet eyes, he was doing an extremely good job of it, for she did not receive the slightest hint of an Echo.  
  
“Have you ever considered _not_ using the terms ‘lowborn’ and ‘highborn’?”  
  
He returned his attention to her, an expression of pure bewilderment played out over his gracefully sharp features, “One step at a time.”  
  
Having found her momentum, she pressed on, “I don’t give a damn about your social status, no more than do you care about whether or not I am the Warrior of Light.”  
  
They stared at each other as if seeing their true selves for the first time, not the heroes the rest of the world would imagine them to be. And they waited. It was clear what they both wanted to do right then. Venice knew exactly what was stopping them. They saw each other as complete equals, they could not decide who should make the first move. She put her hand out as if were a consolation prize and he took it, enclosing her hand with his own. They both looked sheepishly away from each other.  
  
Suddenly the pair were transfixed by Maelie’s extraordinary flight through the heavens. The sun was beginning to set while the first stars were already shining down upon them. The sky was full of reds and blues, a wondrous view.  
  
Returning to the fleeting, heartfelt moment which had slipped through their grasp, Aymeric broached the ensuing silence growing between them:  
  
“The hardest thing I ever had to endure was watching you face off against Nidhogg, I was utterly powerless then,” there was a shakiness to his voice that she had not heard before. ”It happened all over again when I witnessed you disappearing into that throne room, then later onto that platform encircled by the primal, Shinryu, which made Nidhogg look like a kitten in comparison.  
  
Once more, I was powerless, all I could do was wait and pray that you would pull off the impossible. Like you always do, flinging yourself into the gaping maw of danger without regard for your safety or anybody else’s.  
  
Afterwards, when victory was assured and you made your triumphant appearance, I wanted nothing more than to rush to your side, to hold you tight, to never let you go. Mayhaps in the heat of the moment, nobody would have questioned a man showering the object of his complete adoration with the affection she deserved.  
  
The moment passed and I wonder if the opportunity will ever come again.”  
  
“Mayhaps it will,” she said quietly. She wanted it to, desperately so, but she did not know how to say it in words. Just knowing how he had felt at the time was enough to send her own feelings into overdrive, leaving her mind’s ability to function utterly crippled.  
  
“How long must I wait for the next time to come around, until you’ve liberated another nation? What happens when you don’t make it back?” His emotions were fiery by that point, she had no words to soothe him. “You should know that while you’re out there tempting fate that there is someone waiting for you to come back.”  
  
She could sympathise with his plight, she had felt it herself once. Ironically enough, she had been at that very spot, Anyx Trine, when he had gone through that horrendous stabbing ordeal. When she and Alphinaud had learned what happened, she had been ready to give up everything in the event that he did not survive. Wrong place, wrong time. The Blessing of Light, the Echo, completely useless in that moment. Powerless, absolutely powerless.  
  
Mortal life was so fleetingly short. There were many times when she could have died herself, for stupid reasons. But she never worried about her own life, suddenly she was being asked to do so for somebody else’s benefit.  
  
“Aymeric,” it was all she could manage. He squeezed her hand, not expecting her to say more. He had said his piece, she could take her time figuring out her response.  
  
Though it had not been explicitly stated, the amount of concern and affection they held for one another was well and truly above the threshold of friendship. They could spend several bells in conversation or in complete silence and still enjoy being in the presence of the other. They did whatever felt right at any given time, living in the moment, sometimes forgetting their other obligations.  
  
She reflected on how physically they had shown their adorations since she had returned to Ishgard. It was all little stuff on its own: a bit of hugging, hand holding, the long winded greetings and farewells, the occasional cuddle, but together it was adding up. To what?  
  
Their lives were not conducive for traditional courtship and even if they were, Venice suspected the rules for Ishgardian relationships would be labyrinthian in their complexity.  She was dying to ask “what are we doing” but she was certain he didn’t know any better than her. Better to continue to act on impulse than to dispel the comfortable illusion with cumbersome logic.  
  
Again he squeezed her hand, hard enough that the wyvern scales of his gloves dug into her skin. He must have been silently thinking similar thoughts. Still neither knew what to do, not that there was any sense of urgency to their dilemma. The sun began to set and they watched on; neither beholden to the other, neither wanting to be apart.  
  
\---  
  
“Your plan proved to be a roaring success, as we’ve come to expect from you. As _I_ have come to expect.”  
  
They were back at the Congregation, the escort mission having reached its conclusion. Back behind his large desk, Aymeric looked like a hunting falcon who had recently had its wings clipped.  
  
“Thank you but I did not come here seeking praise,” Venice held her head in her hand, the way Alphinaud did when he was thinking very hard.  
  
“What troubles you so?”  
  
“That Doman boy. While definitely not a good samaritan by any means, I don’t think he was being purposely malicious. I can’t help but wonder about his motivations, why did he need to sulk about? What pushed him into living like that, in the shadows, alone, without concern for the morals of others?”  
  
“Why does any criminal do as he does? Perhaps we are not to know all things.”  
  
“I’m not trying to find a deep answer, I mean this boy in particular could have gone back to his homeland. Why didn’t he? Why live in poverty if you don’t have to,” she began to pace then arrived at her own answer. “Doma is on the right track but it's hardly welcoming of its returning refugees. There’s just not enough resources at their disposal, no wonder some haven’t returned.  
  
Which leads me to asking a favour though I know not if there is much you can do. Soon Hien will ask to join his nation to the Alliance, as you recently did with Ishgard. He’ll need an ally on the Council to back him up.”  
  
“I am aware, we’ve been keeping correspondence since the siege,” he watched her with a business-like air about him, the emotions he had wanted to express at Anyx Trine were nowhere to be seen.  
  
“Then you will throw your backing behind Doma?” she stopped.  
  
“What little I can give, yes. Why the sudden sense of concern?”  
  
“I fear the Alliance will returns to its old habits when there is no longer a crisis on their doorstep. Doma is so far away, geographically and culturally, that they will be easily forgotten about. Only the Scions were sent to assist them and that wasn’t even our full strength. I just get the feeling that Hien will have to fight an uphill battle whereas Lyse will get whatever she wants from the Council. There are only so many resources to go around, the Alliance may half-arse both attempts for aide.”  
  
“Some of this has occurred to me as well, Venice. It is my job after all, not merely looking after Ishgard but also her allies. Going forward we will need these relationships to be as strong as possible. This is what I’ve been working on since you’ve returned, a complex set of trade agreements that will work to benefit all nations within the Alliance. It's not exactly what you’re asking for but I don’t see why we cannot combine our ideas together.”  
  
“Too bad we didn’t recover Cid’s prototype, that may have played a pivotal role if it proved to live up to its potential. Faster air travel would make the world a little bit smaller.”  
  
“Aye, it may yet turn up so do not lose hope on that front.”  
  
“It still worries me a great deal that somebody out there is looking for that kind of tech, that sort of game-changing advantage. If the Garleans got hold of it, it would just widen the gap between our military capabilities that much further. I’m not really knowledgeable about tactics but it seems to me that we ought to try and prevent anyone from having any advantage over us, whether we’re actively at war or not.”  
  
“Has anyone told you how honed your perceptions are? I know you have very little interest in matters of politics but if you ever committed yourself to the cause you would find that you have an innate ability to see the obvious things that others overlook. It’s very useful.”  
  
“I know people, how they think and what they want, what they are willing to do to get it. But I wouldn’t know how to give it to them.”  
  
“Well, I will continue to take advantage of your counsel so long as you continue to grant it.”  
  
“I could offer you more than free advice if you want..” she suggested playfully. Though their discussion covered topics of importance, the seriousness of it all was beginning to bore her.  
  
“Let’s try to keep things professional while in this room,” he cautioned her in an even tone.  
  
“That’s not what I..” his rebuke momentarily disoriented her. She was confused, had he not paid her a compliment, was she not allowed to return in kind? Finally she reached the matter that was weighing her down the most, “I had another political matter on my mind when I came in here.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“What would it take for me to join the Temple Knights?”  
  
“Other than a miracle? I have a lot of influence at my disposal but convincing both Houses to pass the required legislation to allow for it is nearly impossible. At least right now while there are bigger priorities on the agenda.”  
  
“But Ser Handeloup and I worked so well together.”  
  
“I know..”  
  
“What about Lucia, she was an outsider was she not?” Venice’s voice began to rise with desperation.  
  
“Venice,” he put up a hand to stop her, a painful expression crossed his face. He closed his eyes for a second, “She was an exceptional case. And she converted.”  
  
“Ah, I suspected that might be the main problem,” she flopped down into one of the chairs nearby, feeling completely deflated. “Who would I have to speak to in the House of Commons or House of Lords?”  
  
“Anyone who would be willing to advocate for you and I am sure most would jump at the chance to represent our most lauded hero,” he sighed. “I do not wish to get your hopes up. It would be a prolonged process, made longer still as long as the Inquisition remains a legal institution. If you want to make an effort on that front then you should speak with Lord Artoirel about it.”  
  
“Well, that’s easy,” she said with relief. “Why did you make it sound so dismal?”  
  
“Nothing about Ishgard’s politics is straightforward, as you will soon discover for yourself,” he folded his hands and looked at her, “I would like nothing more than to have you under my command, know that I am not trying to dissuade you but to prepare you for a hard fight that you will not enjoy. This means a lot to you, I can see it in your eyes. But you should not rush to find a priest, if that is what you’re thinking about doing. You should not convert on a whim to the will of the Fury.”  
  
“I appreciate all of your honesty, truly. A good friend doesn’t sugar coat things and you’ve never led me astray,” her frown faded as an epiphany struck her. “What if..what if I could help the Temple Knights in an unofficial capacity?”  
  
“Don’t you already do that as a Scion?”  
  
“Yeah but, just me, on my own? Like a private investigator, taking on cases that you haven’t got the time or resources for. When I’m in Ishgard, of course. Obviously I will still have responsibilities to the Alliance that will take me away from time to time.”  
  
“That might work though there is no precedent,” he leaned back to consider her proposal. “I’m sure we could iron out the details as we go along.”  
  
“Do we have a deal then?” she extended her hand across the desk.  
  
Instead of shaking it, he kissed the back of her hand gingerly, “I believe we do.”  
  
“That’s not very business-like,” she said with a hint of embarrassment.  
  
“It is a perfectly appropriate response for forming an arrangement with a lady,” he gave a coy grin. She didn’t immediately withdraw her hand, “And besides...judging by the redness gathering around your small, round ears, I would wager it did not displease you.”  
  
“My ears may be smaller than yours but that doesn’t mean they are _small_!” she protested, feeling the warmth in her face subside. He wasn’t wrong, he rarely was. Perhaps the serious business talk was wearing thin on him as well.  
  
The double standard should have bothered her a great deal. It was his office, he could break his own rules if he wished, there were so few other places where he could do as he pleased. For a man with so much power, he had very little freedom. She would not be the one to deny what little was his own. If he needed that clear distinction between personal and professional life then she would respect it, she did not wish to do anything that would make him uncomfortable.  
  
“I suppose I should look into finding another place to stay if this is the way of things going forward,” she said thoughtfully. “It wouldn’t do much for the look of impartiality if I remained at yours. And I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”  
  
“Aye, I believe that makes sense. Finding a suitable residence might be difficult since you’re not always in the city,” his expression was neutral.  
  
“I’ll work something out,” she said with mock confidence.  
  
“If I recall, you agreed to prepare dinner tonight. It sounds like it will be our last for quite some time.”  
  
“Yeah..” she had forgotten that promise, truth be told. “I’ll have to make something extra special.” She got up to leave then. Before she could take another step, she timidly asked, “Do you really want me to leave?”  
  
A quiet sadness hung over them.  
  
“No,” he whispered.  
  
“Neither do I want to go.”  
  
Another long, silent pause.  
  
“Maybe you’re wrong, Venice. Maybe we’ve hurt the Empire so bad that this is the beginning of its end. Though it sounds unlikely it is still a possibility. We should take full advantage of this respite while it lasts. Have the costs of your other victories been so high that you cannot allow yourself to enjoy an easy win when it comes?”  
  
“I don’t want to set either of us up for disappointment..” She appreciated his efforts to lure her back but it was the right decision, even if it hurt. _Especially_ because it hurt so much.  
  
“I’ll see you tonight. We can discuss this further then, if that is your wish.”  
  
\---  
  
Venice was beginning to take a liking to her small inn room. Though it was sparsely furnished and the walls were barely held together in one piece, it had its own charm. Moreover, it was hers, at least for the time being. Each day she checked the noticeboard in the hopes that some temporary lodging would open up within the city proper. The vast majority of her evenings were spent mingling amongst the other residents and patrons of the Forgotten Knight’s upper floor.  
  
“So when is Joyce coming back from her super secret mission?” Venice asked while assessing her cards.  
  
“Hard to say,” Stephanivien de Haillenarte said absently, his blue-green eyes focused intently on his hand.  
  
“You must miss her dearly.”  
  
“Oh yes, the manufactory is a complete mess without her, nobody else knows how to clean a barrel so thoroughly, with such attention to detail.”  
  
“I bet that’s not all she cleans!”  
  
“Venice!” He tried to shush her then looked down upon the Triple Triad board to see his mistake, “Damn it, that was the corner I was going to play Estinien in.”  
  
“Nobody puts Estinien in a corner,” she grinned, they laughed boisterously together.  
  
“For someone who hasn’t played in awhile, you have a tendency to win,” he said. “Mayhaps we should take a break.”  
  
“Well, I do have a few things I wanted to ask you while you’re here.”  
  
“Go on.”  
  
“This carbine that you’ve given me is in functional condition,” she began cautiously. “But it has too many faults for my liking. I would not fully trust in it if I were to chase down a villain with innocent bystanders nearby. The trigger gets stuck sometimes, it doesn’t always cool quickly enough, the recoil time is too great..”  
  
“I know, it was the best we could do on short notice. Usually Joyce handles equipment acquisition and we are too strapped now to provide the quality our machinists are due,” he sighed. “When Hilda joins us, you should ask for her input.”  
  
“She is running late, isn’t she?”  
  
“In the meantime, I might know a supplier though I am loathe to recommend her. It will take you out of your way, she is.. reclusive and difficult to work with at times,” he picked through his pockets and pulled forth what looked like a miniature leveplate. He handed it over to Venice, “Calls these things business levecards or some such. Anyway, there’s an address on one side for the Mists. Despite her social faults, she knows her guns very well. You could do worse.”  
  
“Thanks, I’ll be sure to check her out when I’m in that neck of the woods again.”  
  
“I don’t think I can wait for Hilda much longer, I promised my siblings we’d go to a show tonight. Maybe next time we play I’ll provide you with more of a challenge,” he separated his deck from Venice’s then got up to leave, nodding towards the bar as he did so, “Have a good evening, Venice. I believe you’re about to.”  
  
She followed his gaze and saw two figures at the bar engaged in a deep discussion.  
  
“May I take my lord’s cloak?” she said in the most posh, stuck up voice she could produce.  
  
“Venice, what a delight it is to see you,” Aymeric greeted her with one of his most famous smiles, “Your accent still needs some serious work.”  
  
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” she said with indignant derision, trying not to laugh at her own terrible acting skills.  
  
“You’re the only one who doesn’t,” he mused. “I was just conferring with Lord Gibrillont here about some Temple Kight business.”  
  
“Bullshit, you wanted an excuse to see me,” she claimed brazenly.  
  
“Is that such a bad thing?” he motioned for her to sit next to him. When she did so, she gave him the customary hug which her earlier ruse had failed to provide, “I’ll cover the Warrior of Light’s tab for tonight.”  
  
“You’re either brave or foolish,” she whistled.  
  
“I’ve been known to be both.”  
  
“In that case, I’ll have your most expensive drink,” she instructed the barkeep.  
  
“As you wish, my lady,” he laughed then produced an aging, dust-ridden bottle of brandy.  
  
“Ugh, this is awful,” she said after one sip. Her insides churned at the very smell of the liquid.  
  
“Now who is being either brave or foolish?” Aymeric said, toasting with his own glass of white wine.  
  
_Tou-fucking-ché._  
  
“I do believe that bottle came from Limsa Lominsa, the Admiral was not particularly fond of it either.”  
  
“Aye, it was part of an exchange. We sent one of our worst back, a bottle of red that succumbed to that nasty fungus right after the Calamity struck,” Gibrillont added. “My kind of diplomacy.”  
  
“How goes the house hunting?” Aymeric enquired once they were left alone.  
  
“Not great,” she admitted. “I’m thinking of looking at Idyllshire next.”  
  
“So far afield?” he looked distressed by the suggestion.  
  
“It's a free city that would suit me well. I reckon many unsavoury types pass through it looking for information or similar, it would be an ideal location to keep an eye on travellers.”  
  
“All good points. But you won’t be leaving too soon will you?”  
  
“I’m still right here,” she smiled, patting his arm. “If you haven’t got any plans tonight, mayhaps you’d like to play some cards? I’m trying to get back into form.”  
  
“I think I remember the rules but I haven’t got a deck of my own.”  
  
“You can use mine, we’ll shuffle and draw from the same cards. Should keep the playing field relatively even.”  
  
\---  
  
“While I won’t ask you to go easy on me, I should forewarn you that I am relatively new to this game,” he said while examining his spread.  
  
He frowned for a moment then played his first card in one of the corners: Hraesvelgr. _Beginner’s luck_ , she thought. She countered easily with her highly prized Alphinaud & Alisaie card. He promptly placed down Nidhogg, the source of his earlier reaction, then proceeded to win every game from that point on. She couldn’t believe it, it wasn’t even skill so much as he kept managing to get all the high-point cards, he didn’t even seem too interested in longterm strategies or the point values at all, finding the artwork of each card far more intriguing.  
  
They had one of their typically laid back conversations while they played. She explained how she acquired each card, who the characters and creatures were meant to be, and gave other tidbits of knowledge related to her vast adventures. Despite losing, she found herself enjoying his company too much to worry much about her reputation.  
  
After awhile, Venice got up to retrieve their drinks just as she had multiple times that evening: a tankard of dark ale for her, a wine glass full of sweet grape-flavoured cordial for him. He had a rule about not drinking more than a single glass of alcohol in public, she surmised it made sense for someone who had to maintain their public image at all times.  
  
When she reached the table, she enacted her plan. Having lost enough rounds that night, she decided that it wouldn’t hurt to at least look at his hand and devise an actual well-informed strategy. She placed the drinks down slowly, trying to catch a quick glimpse but he instantly pulled his cards tightly to his chest while thanking her for taking her turn. Well, then. Lucky for Venice, she had a contingency plan to fallback on.  
  
Before returning to her seat opposite, she leaned over and audaciously moved into give him a kiss, nothing intense, merely a cheeky peck meant to catch him off guard. Again she failed to to see his cards, for he had placed all five face down on the table. And in that moment, she realised she had failed to develop a secondary contingency for there was nowhere else to go.  
  
She looked into his pale blue eyes, nearly able to see her own reflection within. He kissed back with more fervour, seemingly emboldened by the breaking of the ice which she had initiated. It wasn’t an elaborate or even overly passionate gesture. It was simply a long overdue pressing of the lips that felt like it lasted an eternity. She could taste the wine he had had several bells before. His hand ran up her side, along her back, eventually settling on cradling the nape of her neck, one thumb pressed deliberately against her earlobe while the rest of his fingers were buried beneath her hair. The other arm looped around her lower back, keeping her well-balanced in his lap.  
  
Neither the politician nor the heroine cared what anyone else made of their open display. It would have made for strange viewing anyway, he in a typical Ishgardian three-piece suit and she in her strange, brightly coloured fabrics; they were worlds apart from one another. But they had just as much in common, if not moreso than they had differences. The reformist and the revolutionary had spent most of their lives trying to make the world a better place for everyone else, maybe it was time they did the same for each other.  
  
A beeping sound interrupted the moment. A linkpearl. She touched her ear, brushing against his hand but nothing happened. He pulled away to touch his own instead. Venice couldn’t hear what was said but she knew she was in for disappointment.  
  
“Understood. I’ll be on my way soon,” he said.  
  
Venice detangled herself from his grasp with great reluctance, “What’s going on?”  
  
“Duty calls, my love,” he said with a heavy sigh, not quite wanting to believe it.  
  
There was no apology. He had spent most of his life apologising for the mistakes of others, finding the middle ground that nobody else could see. He was an advocate of peace, a negotiator, a reformist but the one thing he would not compromise on was his service to Ishgard. She couldn’t begrudge him for adhering to his principles.  
  
“Is there anything I can help with?” She knew the answer, she had drank too much that evening to be of use to anyone.  
  
“I can handle this one. Be sure to give Lord Gillibront his coin, will you?” He placed a few silver pieces down on the table, she nodded. He tried to turn his dour expression into something more positive, “We should do this again sometime.”  
  
“Which: the cards or the kissing?”  
  
“Both,” he walked over to her, cupped her head in his hands, and gently kissed her forehead.  
  
After that, he reached for his soulcrystal, instantly changing from dapper gentleman to fully armoured knight. She wouldn’t have minded seeing what he looked like without either set on.  
  
“May the Fury protect you,” the words filled her mouth before she could process them. When had she ever invoked the Fury’s name?  
  
“May She look after you as well,” he said immediately, giving her one final, longing stare before turning on his heel to depart. His cloak swirled around him in dramatic fashion as he set off to save his city once again.  
  
Venice could feel the pangs of disappointment growing as she watched him leave. She had sampled a taste but she needed more. She wanted to feel his bare hands against her skin, wanted to run her fingers through the tantalising curls that crested his cheeks, to feel the pressure of his thighs pressing upon hers. She longed to waltz her fingers along his chest, to feel it rise and fall as his breath hastened. She would continue the procession as she lightly traced the outline of that mortal scar further down, down..  
  
“Left you high and dry, did he?” the barkeep interrupted her daydream.  
  
She snapped out if it, feeling her cheeks blushing profusely. Grudgingly she went to the bar to pay for the drinks. While there, an unassuming lute leaning against some shelves in the back caught her eye for the first time.  
  
“Hey does that thing still work?” she asked Gibrillont, ignoring his previous indiscretion.  
  
“Who knows, you’re welcome to tune it but please don’t scare off my late-night customers if you aren’t any good.”  
  
“I know what I’m doing,” He handed it over and she took the wooden instrument to a chair by the fireplace so she could see the condition of its strings. Muscle memory came back to her as she tested the integrity of each one. She played a few scales, the sound wasn’t great but it wasn’t terrible either.  
  
“Hey do you to take requests, darling?” a random, inebriated knight asked.  
  
She hesitated. It had been nearly a decade since she had played with her band, never had she played for an audience solo.  
  
“I don’t know any local songs,” she said truthfully.  
  
“That’s alright! We’ll sing, you play along,” he said. The knight’s mates cheered him on. Then, without waiting for approval, they launched into a series of marching songs with way more gusto than was necessary.  
  
Memories of the recent excursion into Dravania came to her then, perhaps she did recognise some of the songs. The sense of camaraderie, of belonging to a greater good, of having a noble purpose, it was intoxicating. Her fingers began to pluck the strings of their own accord, the sensation completely cathartic.  
  
Her mind drifted further, to the kiss from that very night. It was like being struck by lightning, they had finally broken through the invisible barrier that had shrouded their deepest desires. She continued to strum her instrument in tune with the knights. Had he accidentally called her his love? Surely he had meant to say “my friend”.  
  
Strumming, still strumming. A warmth spread through her every being. How long had she repressed her creative spirit, how free she felt to unleash it all again, how truly alive she was.


End file.
